The Healing Power of Ice Cream
by Oldwickedsongs
Summary: Takes place later the night Voldemort returns in Goblet of Fire. Dumbledore goes in search of his Potions Master and finds him. Snape reveals he's not a good guy and the proper way to eat ice cream. Please R/R


Disclaimer: Yes, Severus Snape and Albus Dumbledore are mine! ::evil, slightly insane laughter:: And while I'm at it; I also own Zimbabwe and England. ::takes her medicine:: Okay, maybe not but I really like them. Snape and Dumbledore belong to Rowlings. I don't know whom Mint Chocolate Chip, Butter Ripple and Peanut Butter ice cream belong to. Any ideas?

**The Healing Power of Ice Cream**

By: Lady Erised

****

It was one of those nights Albus Dumbledore just couldn't get to sleep. He had tried working, reading, pacing, pulling at his beard, and even warm chocolate; all to no avail. But it wasn't like he didn't know the cause of insomnia because the cause kept running through his head, tugging at him angrily. It kept demanding his attention and of course, he conceded.

After all, how many days did Lord Voldemort come back from the dead?

In his mind's eye, Dumbledore could still picture the look of utter terror on Harry Potter's face as he recounted the events. Harry had had Dumbledore's full attention but the Headmaster's heart was lurking in the shadows with Snape. The stoic man had been silent for most of the time, keeping his distance from events in case Minister Fudge decided that the ex-Death Eater-turned-Potions Master needed to share in Barty Crouch's fate. Severus Snape was not a man that was easily unnerved but the return of the Dark Lord was enough to frighten any man. He stood watching the events unfold without any sign of emotion.

That was until Harry Potter began name names. The reaction was more instinctive fear then coherent thought; Snape had begun to reach for his wand but stopped just in time. Still, the response had been controlled, calculated and even trained. That steadiness Dumbledore had come to rely on lasted only as long as Snape's patience for Minister Fudge's ranting and when that had been taxed to its limit, Snape exploded.

"There," Said Snape harshly, "There. The Dark Mark. It is not as clear as it was an hour ago, when it burned black, but you can still see it. Every Death Eater had the sign burned into him by the Dark Lord. It was a means of distinguishing one another, and his means of summoning us to him. When he touched the Mark of any Death Eater, we were to Disapparate and Apparate instantly, at his side. This Mark has been growing clearer all year. Karkaroff's too. Why do you think Karkaroff fled tonight? We both felt the Mark burn. We both knew he had returned. Karkaroff fears the Dark Lord's vengeance. He betrayed too many of his fellow Death Eaters to be sure of a welcome back into the fold."

That last sentence had chilled Dumbledore to the bone and he was certain that it wasn't Karkaroff Snape was talking about. It was himself. Dumbledore had been standing close to Snape when the Mark had begun to burn. He had seen Snape's reaction then and had been quietly studying the Potions Master since.

It had been innocent enough to begin with. Snape had been whispering to Madam Hooch the entire time the champions were in the maze. Hooch was trying desperately not to laugh at whatever cutting remarks he was no doubt sharing. Dumbledore had caught Snape's eye and gave him a knowing look.

Snape had returned the look with one of mock innocence and questioning. The faintest whisper of a smile was clear on Snape's face but then suddenly the smile had died. Snape had turned another shade of pale before turning toward the Drumstang's section and searching.

"Karkaroff!" He had shouted, exiting the stands before Dumbledore could ask what was the matter. "Igor!"

"Over here Severus!" The Drumstang Headmaster had a look of utter terror on his face. They had disappeared together, running toward the school before anyone could stop them.

Dumbledore hadn't wanted to ask Snape to do the impossible and in the tense, damnable minutes between the crises, he had exhausted every other option he could think of. But there was no other choice, and he knew that.

"Severus, you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready…" He was trying to tell him he would understand. In fact, Dumbledore had wanted Snape to say he wasn't ready. Dumbledore wanted Snape to refuse, he was wordlessly pleading with the man to decline. If he had, then Dumbledore would have been able to sleep. "If you are prepared."

Snape had disobeyed the order. He had agreed. "I am."

And that was the last time Dumbledore saw him. Albus turned and regarded the clock next to his bed. It was three in the morning. He rose from the bed and went to find his Potion Teacher. The dungeons were cold and empty totally deprived of life. The rows of tables and cauldrons seemed eerie in the dark and Dumbledore was only too pleased to leave. The office was equally abandoned and creepy. The bottles of pickled potions ingredients, among them pixies and boggart, didn't help.

Snape's residence at Hogwarts echoed his former aristocratic lifestyle. It was a relatively small apartment, with the bedroom, bathroom and a hidden stairway to the Slytherin Common room. A large canopy bed, wardrobe and a desk made up the only furniture. The desk was cluttered with papers, the wardrobe was open and had the clothing sprawled over the floor. The bed was the only thing untouched. 

A quick patrol around the school grounds yielded nothing, which was unusual, considering that was the usual nighttime activity for Snape when he suffered from insomnia. Dumbledore clicked his tongue disapprovingly, thinking about how often the Slytherin House Head did suffer from bouts of restlessness. Severus was never a content man and had seldom, if ever, enjoyed a true night's rest. The gardens and lakeshore were empty. Dumbledore was about to give up when he just happened to look up.

The image of a man was barely visible in one of the uppermost windows. In the darkness and knowing the man was dressed in the same, Dumbledore could only make out the shifting. He smiled. The Owlery.

During the days, the Owlery was loud, noisy and hazardous to traverse but at night it is calm, still and very empty. The owls were out somewhere looking food and that left Snape with a prefect haven. Dumbledore pushed opened the door to the small room and slid inside without making a sound. The room was small and circular with only one large arch window that had no glass. It took a few moments for him to get use to the smell before turning his full attention to Snape.

Snape was straddling the window ledge and had his back pressed against the side. He was wearing his hair in a loose ponytail. His black trousers were dirty and torn and his white shirt was bloodied. The shirt was torn and hung off his shoulder. The not so subtle reminder of Snape's days in Azkaban was clear in the night; the moon was glistening off the scars. Dumbledore made a quick inventory of the scarred back and searched to find new wounds. To his relief, he saw none.

There was a bowl between Snape's legs. Curious, Dumbledore approached him.

It was green with speckles of dark brown, two large scoops of this green cold comfort.

Dumbledore smiled. "Ice cream."

Snape nodded, taking a spoonful and holding the spoon in his mouth for a time. "Mint Chocolate Chip. I prefer Butter Ripple, personally but this was all the Kitchen had."

"Is there a reason you are up in the Owlery at three o'clock in the morning? Does something really fascinate you enough to have you up here at this hour? Don't tell me it's the smell."

"As a boy, I use to come up to think. I could be alone here, no one would look for me."

"I thought you hated birds."

"Hated birds? Headmaster, I love birds, especially roasted." He took another bite of the ice cream before turning his head to fully face him.

It was then Dumbledore saw the scars. Three of them, posed over Snape's left eye. He started to say something but Severus stopped him.

"The Dark Prince was less then happy to see me." He said, not looking at him. "But I'm not permanently damaged." Another bite of his ice cream. "Do you like ice cream, Headmaster?"

"I like one kind. Peanut Butter."

"Never tried it."

Dumbledore looked at him for a long time. "Severus, what's wrong?"

"I have to finish this before it gets soupy Headmaster." The Potions Master's voice sounded more like a child trying to ignore a subject then his usual self.

Dumbledore gave him a stern look, one that was warning but concerned. "Are you alright? Severus, how are you taking this?"

"Mint Chocolate Chip."

"Not well, apparently."

Again the Potions Master ignored him. Severus was playing with the ice cream, swirling around the melting sweet and watching the designs it made in the bowl. He was quiet for a few moments. "Harry was right, Albus, Lord Voldemort is back. I didn't want to believe him. I wanted him to be mistaken but he wasn't. I was hoping…"

"What?"

"I need to finish this." Snape cut off again.

"Hoping for what, Severus?"

"That this doesn't get soupy." He looked up at Dumbledore again. He had a gentle look on his face and a slight smile on his lips. But the scarred eye was all he could focus on and Albus turned away.

Snape watched him. He made no attempt to hide the distress on his face. He swallowed hard and turned back to his bowl. "I owe you everything Albus. You did so much for me. You believed in me when no one else would. You saved me from the Dementors." He was fighting to keep his voice from breaking. "You know I'd do whatever you asked of me."

"I know, Severus."

"But…" He seemed pained beyond words. "I'm scared Headmaster."

There was a long beat. "So am I."

"I'm not a good man." Severus was saying but it seemed more directed to the ice cream then to Dumbledore. "I never said I was. I made no secrets and promised nothing…"

Dumbledore forced himself to look at Snape. "What are you saying?"

"I'm not James Potter, Albus. I am not you or Gideon or Lupin or hell, even Black. I'm not a good man."

"And?" 

"When I first began to feed information to you, it was easy. I just wrote letters. All I was to anyone was red ink on cheap paper. I wasn't a face or a name or a voice; I was just red ink. But if I do this now, if I return now, it's going to be me. My life is going to be on the line." He finally released it. "And I do want to do this! I want to live, Albus!"

"It's natural to be afraid for your life, Severus. Your path isn't an easy one."

"But I don't want this! I don't want to be a hero. Heroes die and you give them homage at their graves. I don't want that!"

Dumbledore was stun by the passion behind his voice. He didn't even begin to think of a reply, he couldn't. Snape had never shown this vulnerability to anyone. He had always done what was expected of him. He had always shown himself to be a dedicated and fearless soldier. This was new and nothing could have trained Dumbledore for it.

Snape mistook his silence for disgust. He knew how to deal with pity and disgust. He chuckled and sneered. "What? Aren't you going to tell me about those who died? Aren't you going to remind me of all those men that were better than me and how I should be the one cold in his grave? Aren't you going to tell me about how James and Lily and countless others like them gave their lives for something bigger and greater while I cower in terror?" He swallowed back tears. "Aren't you going to tell me how I should have died, not them?"

"If that is what you want to hear Severus, then yes, I'll tell you that." Snape looked down. Dumbledore reached over and touched his shoulder. The man flinched. "That's what I thought."

"I can't do this." It was pitiful. "I'm not a good man."

"Yes you are. You just can't bring yourself to acknowledge that because if you do, that means you can never hide behind your precious lies anymore." Snape shifted guiltily. "And, for now at least, you need your lies. You need them the exact same way you need your mask. You need them both to hide, to feel safe. For right now, that's okay. You can do that, Severus. You can be afraid. You can almost be afraid of what happens when there will be nothing left to protect you from yourself."

"It's all gone." Snape said, commenting on his ice cream.

Dumbledore smiled. "Get some sleep, Severus. Tomorrow's a new day." He turned to leave.

"Headmaster?"

He paused and waited.

"Why do you trust me?"

"Because you can't hide the good in you. Not from me."

"Tell me what you want, Albus." Snape said. He sounded like a child again. He was asking, pleading for an answer. He was dying for someone to tell him what to do. His voice changed, becoming serious and deadly. "Tell me what to do. I'd die for you. I'd kill for you." He paused. "But please…don't ask me to do this."

Albus closed his eyes. He wanted to tell him that if he could have, he would have spared him from that fate but he knew better. For Snape, this was just a momentary weakness. By the sunrise, he would be back to his old self but for tonight, Snape had allowed himself to be who he had never been before, human. Dumbledore sighed. "That is all I can ask you to do, Severus. That, and live."

"Yes, Headmaster."

"Oh yes, Professor, there is another task I must ask of you."  
"Anything." The voice was firmer now, resolved. Dumbledore took great comfort in it.

"Try Peanut Butter ice cream."

"Yes, Headmaster." A beat. "Thank you."

"Good night, Alexander."

A/N: My sincerest thanks and dearest affection goes to my new beta reader: Karen! Thank you! More thanks goes to my role-playing buddy Milo, ARok, and to my beloved House Elf, Babbitt. Hope you enjoy this little story. I am working on Sins of the Father so please be patient with me. Please read and review.


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